The seven year itch
by Sara Pellow
Summary: After seven years of misunderstanding, miscommunication, scandal, war, disease and loss, surely another month of waiting won't be too difficult?


_Author's note:_

Safe in the knowledge (belief, anyway) that the MM ship will come in and will be magnificent, my mind fast-forwarded to the post-war (mostly) happy ending, culminating in a very special Christmas occasion. All the usual copyright disclaimers.

**The seven year itch**

_**After seven years of misunderstandings, miscommunication, scandal, war, disease and loss, surely another month of waiting won't be too difficult**_

"So why do you have me in this get up? I assume it means we're heading out on that infernal machine of yours." Mary said this with a barely concealed smirk.

"I thought you rather enjoyed our excursions on two wheels."

"I agree that I find the 'situation' rather agreeable and I concede that your motorcycle is _almost_ as appealing as your bicycle."

Matthew walked away from the bike and took her in his arms.

"And _I_ like to see you in jodhpurs and leather," he said, as he stole a kiss and playfully pinched her in the ribs, causing Mary to take a sharp intake of breath and clamp her arm down on his. Maintaining her composure in his presence was becoming increasingly difficult. She gifted him with a stare that aimed for admonishing but landed on provocative.

But then a shadow crossed her face and she looked down and away. He didn't need to ask the reason for her sudden change in mood. He rubbed her back.

"My darling Mary. It's okay to feel happy now and again. Don't you think it would bring a smile to your father's face?"

Mary looked up at her beloved fiancé, as he gently wiped away the tears that had settled on her cheeks.

"Tears of happiness, tears of sadness…what _have_ you done to me Matthew Crawley?"

Matthew thought it safe to offer a little cheek.

"Not _nearly_ enough. I only thank God that in a month we will be married."

Their frequent excursions on Matthew's motorcycle were a bright spot in the months of grief since Robert's death. Matthew and Mary felt by turns very guilty and a little amused by the concern these outings inspired. Cora, Violet and Carson were consumed by fear that, having survived the war and the epidemic, they would meet their end on a country lane in Yorkshire.

Little by little over the course of their engagement Mary became more comfortable as Matthew's passenger. She moved closer, held on a little tighter, found ways to insinuate her hands inside his leather jacket, first the pockets, then she would unzip the bottom of the jacket and nestle her hands beneath it. Matthew found that, even as winter closed in, he was more than willing to withstand the freshness of the air under his coat – frankly it was the only way he could keep his cool. Their engagement was much longer than either desired but Mary, and indeed the whole family, needed to and wanted to mourn Robert properly.

"So, where are we going today?"

"Well, first I think it would do us both good to hit the road and open the throttle a little. Then I have a surprise for you."

"I don't like surprises."

Matthew scoffed and raised his eyebrows at her: "You _love_ surprises."

Mary made no move towards the bike, firmly standing her ground and arching her eyebrows in expectation. It made Matthew smile.

"All right, a hint. When we were first engaged, before your father... I remember you saying that you rather liked the idea of starting our life together at Crawley House."

"I did, I fear at Downton we will have all too little time to ourselves."

"Well, I have something to show you that might remedy that, to some degree at least."

Mary was intrigued but she had her own surprise to share, but not just yet.

…

Once they were out of sight of the Abbey and the village, Mary signalled to Matthew to pull to the side of the road.

As they came to a stop Matthew turned around with a look of concern. He was met by the most mischievous grin he had seen on Mary for quite a while. His heart skipped a beat and he suddenly felt, well, fearful – exactly what did she have planned?

"I have a surprise for you too Matthew," as she got off the bike and motioned for him to do the same.

"Yeees?" he said, very warily.

"I have been asking, for a very long time, when exactly you planned to teach me how to ride this contraption. You may have noticed I haven't asked in a while."

"I had. I thought you'd given up on the idea," realising as he said it the folly of such a notion.

"Oh Matthew, do you not know me _at all_?"

"So, am I to take it that you have been teaching _yourself_?"

"Don't be absurd, I'm not _reckless_. No, Branson has been teaching me. We've been stealing your bike on a regular basis."

To his knitted brow, she said: "Well I had to do something on the days you were in chambers and you know how much I loathe needlepoint."

"So why didn't you take the driver's seat when we were at the Abbey?"

"Well, our families are concerned enough about _you_ riding the motorcycle. And what would the assembled masses say if the Earl of Grantham was seen on the back of a bike clinging to a woman."

"Not just _any_ woman." He said as he shook his head, not in condemnation but admiration…and something else entirely.

Mary mounted the bike and, not for the first time, Matthew wondered how she could look so elegant and so…alluring at the same time.

"So, are you game?"

He didn't need to respond, he just smirked and flashed those sparkling baby blues at her. There was no way he was going to miss this.

Matthew swung his leg over the back of the bike and they settled in to this new arrangement of bodies. Matthew wrapped his arms tightly around Mary's waist and pulled himself even closer. He did this just as Mary was releasing the clutch. The frisson he elicited resulted in a quick sideways skid and some gravel becoming airborne. Matthew smiled to himself…this was going to be a good day.

…

When they first became engaged they had planned on the shortest possible engagement. With Robert's death during the deadly last hurrah of the influenza epidemic, all thoughts of weddings and honeymoons were forgotten. For the family to have weathered so much and to have survived when so many had not, Robert's death was a crushing blow. Cora was heartbroken and for a long time they feared for her own health. Mary was grieving the loss of a father she liked as much as she loved him. In return, he not only loved her, he appreciated her, and understood her (at least half the time anyway, when she didn't perplex him or dismay him). Matthew grappled with the knowledge that he was to be the Earl before his time and mourned the passing of a man he had come to think of, if not as a father, then an elder brother, friend and confidante. For a time, it also brought a return of those nightmares that followed him from the war.

That was why they both loved the freedom the motorcycle gave them. To be outdoors, away from Downton, to be together and to be moving fast enough that no-one recognised the new Earl and his Countess-to-be.

Matthew was impressed with Mary's handling of the bike, and Mary was quietly impressed with herself (she'd crow about it later, just to rile him). Their initial exhilaration was tempered somewhat by the growing understanding that this situation was even more erotically charged than Mary riding pillion.

…

Immediately after Robert's death, in the wildness of their grief, they craved contact but they contented themselves with spending hours on _that_ bench under _that_ tree, wrapped in the comfort of the other. And in that time they decided to wait, even though their now Christmas wedding was four months away. As time wore on and _life_ seemed possible again, they took to taking long walks around the grounds. Mary also finally got to see proof that Matthew could in fact ride a horse, and look rather dashing at it. While no one seriously questioned their propriety, it was understood that their afternoons together were sacrosanct and if it was necessary for the staff to avoid the stables or their favourite parts of the grounds, between the hours of two and four, then so be it. As their wedding drew nearer, they questioned more and more frequently their decision to wait, to themselves and to each other, as their increasingly amorous clinches on these daily excursions left them equal parts dizzy with desire and agitated with frustration.

…

After an hour or two of riding through the countryside they reached the outskirts of the estate again and Matthew resumed the forward position on the bike. He had also, after much negotiation, convinced Mary to wear a blindfold in the form of a silk scarf.

The wound their way along the lanes and back roads of the estate, with the last of the autumn leaves rushing skyward in their wake, until they arrived at one of the farthest reaches of Downton's park.

Matthew hopped off the bike and led Mary gently by the hand. She was becoming increasingly impatient.

"I can hear water. You're not going to drown me are you Matthew? It's rather too chilly for that."

Matthew couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Tempted as he was to leave the blindfold on, Matthew instead stood close behind Mary and slowly removed it, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested is chin on her shoulder in anticipation. Unbeknownst to him Mary's mouth was agape, a posture she had often observed, and caused, in her husband to be.

Before them stood a perfectly situated stone cottage. Beside it ran a small stream. The roof and the ground surrounding it were covered in the most brilliantly coloured autumn leaves.

When the power of speech returned to her, it was one breathy word: "Matthew."

Matthew pressed an appreciative kiss to her neck.

"I haven't been here since I was a child. It was built in my grandfather's time. I thought it had been swallowed up by the ivy years ago."

"Not quite, though it was as rather mossy, and home to a fearful number of swallows."

Mary spun around and slapped Matthew in the chest: "Now I know where you've been disappearing to for hours on end. I was worried about you, you know. I had Carson follow you one day. He wouldn't tell me what you were doing, he just assured me you were fine."

"Ah yes, Carson." Matthew looked down to hide the smile on his face. "Let's just say Carson would not likely thrive in covert surveillance. I swore him to secrecy...and he's become quite the accomplice."

"Carson, conspiring against me! I don't believe it."

"I think you know Carson _always_ acts in your interests."

As she went to kiss him, Matthew took her hand and led her down to the cottage. With a rueful smile at being rebuffed, she allowed herself to be led, captivated by the boyish pride in his face.

"It's somewhere we can get away, just the two of us…and Isis I expect." Mary couldn't help smiling; the family dog had taken to following him everywhere and seemed to have an uncanny knack of finding Mary and Matthew, wherever they were, whenever they were locked in a particularly passionate embrace. She stepped closer to him and made sure that this time he didn't dodge her kiss.

After an age she pulled away and when the power of speech returned to _him_, he spoke.

"I was thinking we might spend our wedding night here. It's still too soon to travel, with the flu still a danger...but I can't quite imagine spending our first week together as husband and wife at Downton."

"Nor can I!" was Mary's reply, as her brows shot up in horror at the prospect.

Matthew smiled, and with a quick look around to see if Isis had managed to sniff them out, earning a knowing smile from Mary, he pulled her into another dizzying, tantalising and frustrating kiss.

Eventually it was Mary who broke the kiss and after a sigh that dripped with long-thwarted desire, she said: "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

"I'm beginning to think that it wouldn't be _healthy_ to wait much longer," he breathed against her neck, earning a wry laugh from Mary.

"It's only a month away now, surely any...unexpected but happy turn of events could be kept between just the two of us."

"But we _have_ waited so long...it's only another four weeks, even if it does feel like four years right now."

The were still in each other's arms, breathing heavily.

"I must say I _have_ been quite proud of us...and more than a little surprised," Mary offered.

His laughter thrummed against her neck.

"Now you can see why I've been so keen to keep busy. I even found myself chopping wood in the rain one day. In my _shirtsleeves_."

"Matthew, that's a very unseemly way for the Earl of Grantham to behave...I do hope you'll invite me to watch over the propriety of any such activity in future," she teased.

With a groan he said: "_This_ is going to be the longest month of our lives."

Matthew still had the silk scarf in his hand. As he went to place it in his pocket Mary put her hand over his.

"I'll take that, thank you." As she said it she smiled and turned on her heel, the scarf trailing behind her as it slid from Matthew's hand.

"The longest month of our _lives_," he repeated as he followed her back to the bike.

…

The day of Mary and Matthew's wedding was marked by the joy that accompanies any marriage built on love, friendship, passion and devotion. There was also a faint but visible shadow of loss; Mary missed her father keenly on this of all days. It was a feeling relieved only by the knowledge that it would be Carson walking her down the aisle to the man she loved so much she simply could not express it in words.

At the wedding breakfast they received, with genuine warmth and gratitude, the congratulations of their family and friends.

They took the first dance, as was the new custom, and as the floor filled with couples they made their way to a quieter corner of the ballroom; it felt like their first private moment of the day. As they danced close, slowing to barely a shuffle, Matthew spoke, his breath hot against Mary's ear.

"I'm really am questioning the wisdom of our decision to wait."

Broken from her trance, Mary looked at him and smiled: "You're questioning that now, _at_ our wedding?"

Matthew rested his forehead against hers.

"Yes, I have to confess that, apart from the ceremony of course, I've found myself rather preoccupied with exactly how early it would be proper to leave one's own wedding reception."

Mary pulled her head back and with a quirk of her brow, looked deeply into his eyes and said: "Well, I think with you as the Earl and me the Countess we may do _exactly_ as we please, husband."


End file.
